What's The Point In Fighting It
by dipdipdipmyblueship
Summary: It's May 2016, and Carla has moved to Devon following the fallout of her wedding to Nick.
1. Chapter 1

**_May 2016_**

She wheeled her suitcases into the main seating area of her new home in Kingsbridge, Devon and turned on the pot lights in the kitchen. Taking off her jacket and leaning against the counter, she looked around the modestly furnished interior and exhaled a tearful breath. The house, humble in both its size and decor, still gave her that enticing sense of calm as it had done the last three times she had viewed it in recent months.

And calming it should have been. After all, this beautiful four bedroom, two bath, white stone exterior cottage symbolized a new beginning for her; a fresh start to her life as Mrs Carla Tilsley.

And yet here she stood: husbandless and alone once more.

It was like a horrifying, recurring nightmare that she could never seem to escape from: Another friendship kindled out of mutual understanding; another relationship sparked out of chaos, another engagement that teased a picture-perfect future, another wedding day ending in pure bedlam; and another 'marriage that could have been', laying in tatters amongst the confetti on the Bistro floor.

Only this time the disaster of a ride of this doomed merry-go-round she consistently found herself on, lay solely at her own feet. She had been the one to cheat; unable to cope with the news that Johnny Connor, a man she had known her whole life, was actually her father; news that was only ever revealed to her because her vengeful, murderer of a brother decided to blackmail Johnny. He never would have acknowledged her as his daughter otherwise; allowing them all to live in blissful ignorance as he had done for the past 40 years. And the feeling of rejection from her biological father, coupled with the knowledge that her childhood could have been so different if only she had known, caused her to revert to typical Carla-form.

She never could resist pressing that self-destruct button of hers.

With a resigned sigh, she pushed her body away from the counter, and opening a cabinet above the sink, she took out one of the glass tumblers that she and Nick had brought down and unpacked just a week prior. Giving it a quick rinse under the tap, she turned to the liquor cabinet and grabbed the whiskey bottle: an early housewarming gift from David and Kylie when they had helped them move some of their furniture and basics down a week ago. Pouring herself a generous helping of the amber liquid, she placed the bottle down on the counter and turned, her gaze coming to rest on the black-coated appliance neatly fitted between two stone-coloured cabinets. Her eyes began to fill with tears as she continued to stare at it and she took a large gulp of whiskey, both cringing and delighting in the burn as she swallowed it down...

_"What is that still doing here?" She asked _

_"It's the AGA cooker," Nick chuckled_

_"I'm aware of what it's called from the last time we saw it, but I still don't quite understand why it's still here, or what it does for that matter- "_

_"I told you, it's a type of heat storage stove and cooker. It's all cast iron on the inside and depending on which of these compartments you use, you can either use it to cook something quickly, or use it to slow cook."_

_"Okay but as charming as it is, I thought we agreed to have it refitted for sommit else?"_

_"No, no, you suggested that! I agreed to nowt." Nick shook his head and laughed, "Besides, come on, you can't actually want to get rid of this: it's a classic!"_

_"I'm not denying that Nicholas, but don't you think we should have gone for sommit a bit more practical?"_

_"It is practical! Especially considering how much you hate cooking."_

_"But that's what I'm getting at Nick! I can barely use a regular cooker as it is, you honestly think I'll be able to use something from like, the 1920s?"_

_Nick smirked at her, "that's exactly when it's from..."_

_She folded her arms across her chest and smiled, "Well, hark at me: Brain of Britain."_

_"Look, it adds character to our new home and it's a nice contrast to some of the more modern appliances in here; and besides," he wrapped his arms around her waist, "I thought we agreed that I would have the final say on the kitchen fittings since I will be the one doing the majority of the cooking anyway..."_

_"And what if that changes?" she asked quietly_

_He chuckled at her, "Why: planning on taking some courses from Nigella are you?"_

_She lowered her gaze to the ground between them, suddenly unable to look him in the eye as she spoke, "you know what I mean..."_

_"Hey," he pulled her tightly against him, using his finger to tip her chin upwards, "we've been through this. I'm not going to change my mind..."_

_"I wouldn't blame you if you did, you know, you've still got time to back out-"_

_"That's not going to happen. I want this," he insisted, his grip on her tightening, "I want you! I want to be your husband and I want you to be my wife. I want us to have a fresh start. Right here: new town, new restaurant, new house, new life. No exes, no-" his jaw tightened slightly, "no more mistakes..."_

_She felt a chill travel through her body and she nodded slowly, "no more mistakes," she repeated, sliding her hands reassuringly up and down his arms._

_"Now, the future Mrs Tilsley," he reached down and grasped the back of her thighs, lifting her up and setting her gently on the countertop, before placing his hands on either side of her body, "if madam is satisfied with her fiancee's decisions about the kitchen of their new home," he leaned in and placed soft kisses along her neck up towards her jaw, "what do you say to us christening it before David and Kylie arrive with the moving van?"_

_She leaned her head back, granting him more access before wrapping her legs around his waist and pulling him ever closer to her, "how long before they get here?" _

_"An hour or so," his tongue darted out along her collarbone, earning him a gasp from her_

_She placed her hands on either side of his face and pulled it up to hers, "I say why stop with just the kitchen?" she captured his lips with her own, moaning as he wrapped his arms around her roughly and pulled her flush against him, returning her kisses with an overpowering possessiveness she'd become accustomed to in recent months..._

The tears continued to traipse unabashedly down her face as she polished off the remainder of the liquid in the glass in two large gulps. _'So much for not changing his mind...'_ she thought bitterly before pouring herself another large helping.

The sound of her mobile's ringtone cut through the silence and she quickly put the tumbler and bottle on the counter and made a dash for her purse that she had left hanging on the handle of a suitcase.

"Come on, come on," she muttered as her trembling hands struggled to open the zipper. When she finally managed to dig out her phone, she felt her heart sink momentarily as the name that flashed across the screen was not the one she had been expecting, but the name that was there filled her with an immediate sense of love and warmth,

"Hiya Roy," she answered, trying and failing to conceal her emotions

"As-as requested, I'm not calling to check up on you," Roy's voice came softly through, "just to ensure that you arrived safely..."

She pressed her lips together as she tried to contain a laugh, "you sure about that?"

"Honestly? No,"

She smiled lovingly as the thought of the cafe owner, shifting uncomfortably at the thought of trying to lie to her, flashed through her mind

"The truth is I am indeed calling to check up on you," Roy continued unabashedly, "and qu-quite frankly Carla I won't apologize for it."

"I wouldn't ask you to Roy," she sank onto the couch in the living room, "despite what I told you earlier, I actually really appreciate it."

"How are you?"

"Holding it together," she responded, "by my fingernails, mind, but, holding on nonetheless."

"You did the right thing, Carla,"

She closed her eyes as more tears dripped down her cheeks, "Did I?"

"You told him the truth," Roy's voice though factual and to the point, was still warm and loving, "he could have walked away when you did, when you gave him every opportunity to. But he chose to go forward. He chose to go through with the wedding anyway," his voice became firmer, angrier, "an-and quite frankly, what he did to you- I don't think I could ever forgive..."

"He was angry Roy, hurt,"

"Pl-please don't make excuses for Nick Tilsley's behaviour Carla, I won't stand for it."

Carla nodded, "okay," she whispered, "have you seen him?"

"Him, or _him_?"

She swallowed deeply, "both..."

"Yes, I have," he answered honestly, "and both were looking equally distraught as you were being driven to the train station."

"Well, like you said, what's done is done, right?" her voice croaked

"Fresh start, calmer waters." Roy stated, "Cathy and I have booked our tickets. We will be arriving next Tuesday but we can still cancel up until Monday if you change your mind about us coming out."

"No, no I won't," she breathed deeply, "how is she?"

"Quite well considering. She'll be released from hospital tomorrow as long as all goes well. Tracy hasn't been formally charged yet for driving the car into her. Police are still looking into if it was deliberate or an accident."

She could hear the disdain in his voice, the bitter resentment and she felt overwhelmingly guilty, "I feel horrible about it-"

"It wasn't your fault,"

"She were aiming for me," her voice cracked, "if Robert hadn't pushed me out of the way, if she hadn't turned the car at the last second to avoid hitting him -"

"It-it's all 'ifs' and 'maybes', Carla!" Roy cut her off, "Tracy Barlow made her decision, and she is suffering the consequences now, even if not by the long arm of the law yet."

"What consequences?" she sniffled, dabbing a tissue at her tear-stained cheeks

"Robert's left her, her family wants nothing more to do with her, and Amy's gone to live with Steve and Michelle."

"Couldn't have happened to a nicer person..."

"Agreed." Though he rarely acknowledged it, Roy's disdain for Tracy Barlow was no secret, "will you be alright, tonight?"

"Oh you know, I'll soldier on," she whispered

"Please, no more alcohol tonight."

Her head snapped upright, "How did you-"

"I just do," he answered, his tone nonjudgmental, "promise me?"

"Okay," she agreed, a smile spreading across her face.

"You-you know where I am if you need to reach me, day or night."

"I do."

"Goodnight, Carla."

"I love you, Roy,"

There was the briefest of pauses before his voice came through, "and I you."

She lowered the phone from her ear, pressing the end button as a fresh wave of tears pooled in her eyes. She rose from the couch and headed to the kitchen, opening up and searching three drawers before finding the funnel she was looking for. Placing it in the opening of the whiskey bottle, she raised the full glass and poured the liquid slowly back into the bottle. She was well aware that she could have drank the second helping of whiskey without Roy ever knowing, but for some reason she couldn't betray his trust, even living hundreds of miles away from him now.

Rinsing the glass and filling it with water, she headed back to the couch, pulling the smaller of her suitcases with her. Sitting down, and placing the glass on the nearby coffee table, she unzipped the case and pulled out her toiletries bag and her pyjamas. She began to undress when she saw it: there, neatly folded into a pocket of her suitcase was a handkerchief.

But not just any handkerchief. It was one of Hayley's.

The one Roy had given her two years ago when she was in the hospital after her miscarriage. She had brought it back with her to his flat when hers had been destroyed in the fire Tracy set to it a year ago, and she had neatly tucked it away in his room, not wanting him to be parted with something so special that belonged to his late wife.

But he had found it and placed it in her opened suitcase, unbeknownst to her, when he dropped by the flat earlier that day to say goodbye to her.

She reached for the hanky, her eyes tearing up once more, and as she brought it up to her face she let the sobs she had been holding in for the past 24 hours escape her. Her body shaking, she lay on the couch, curling herself into a fetal position and cuddling the handkerchief into her chest.

* * *

Carla shot upright from the sofa to the sound of a loud pounding at her door. Still gripping Hayley's hanky in her hand, she rubbed the sleep from her eyes and glanced at her phone.

_**3:32 AM **_

_'Who the hell is that at this hour?'_ she thought groggily

Persistent knocking came from beyond the door again.

Anger and frustration took over and she instinctively rose to her feet, ready to give whomever had disturbed her a good what for, before a sense of dread took over her. Reminding herself that she wasn't in Weatherfield anymore she knew that it wasn't likely to be Johnny or Aidan or Michelle on the other side of that door.

Changing tact, she quickly grabbed the fire poker from beside the fireplace in one hand and clutched her mobile in the other, dialling 999 but holding off on pressing the send button, and ever so slowly she made her way into the foyer towards the front door.

She jumped in fright again as the person banged mercilessly again.

"Who is it?" she called out timidly, but was met with an eery silence.

"Look," her voice became firmer, "I've already called 999, alright?" she bluffed, "Them coppers will be on their way right now so if you know what's good for ya-"

"It's me," the voice called to her from beyond the door.

A shiver ran through her, and she exhaled the breath she didn't realize she had been holding.

The poker clattered loudly to the floor as she lunged for the door and with a determined grip she twisted the handle and pulled.

It was him.


	2. Chapter 2

**January 2nd 2016**

"Right, let me get this straight," Michelle leaned on the counter in Carla's flat, pressing her palms together repeatedly to contain the frustration simmering beneath her calm facade, "you had a row with Nick, flounced off to the casino, met Robert, got drunk-"

"Hey, I was not drunk-"

"You're splitting 'airs Carla, you were inebriated,"

"Fair enough," Carla mumbled playing with the opening of her bathrobe.

"Okay, got 'splattered', booked a room, had sex; eventually came home, and called me."

"That sums it up, yeah," Carla sighed guiltily, rubbing the spot just above her eyebrow

Michelle scoffed, "and they say Beyonce's busy..."

"That's not funny," Carla warned

"Oh trust me, darlin' I'm not finding any humour in this in the slightest," Michelle's eyes blazed at her best friend, "Why, eh? Why him?"

"Because he was there-"

"Oh give over! That's bull and you know it," she pointed her finger accusingly at the distraught factory boss, "You were self-destructing as per. Well congratulations Carla because you've well and truly imploded this time..."

* * *

**24 hours earlier**

"14 red."

"Yes!"

"Nicely done, Carla."

"Cheers, Domenic," she thanked him, accepting the chips he thrust towards her and taking a sip of her wine.

"Anyone sitting here?"

"No-" she answered before doing a double take, "Robert?" She watched curiously as he sat down next to her, "Nick's not sent you looking for me has he?"

"Don't flatter yourself, I'm his chef not his flunky,"

"Bets, please"

"What are you doing here then?" she asked as she moved various chips to the numbers in front of her.

"Same as you," he pulled his wallet out from his back pocket, "Hope you don't mind the company"

Carla shook her head, "No, as long as you know there's three subjects out of bounds: relationships, my brother, and the evils of gambling!"

Robert nodded, the last thing he wanted to talk about was her flamin' brother, or Tracy, "You're on."

They gambled for a while in companionable silence, offering the occasional congratulations to the other when they won, or groaning in disappointment when the other lost. As the drinks continued to flow, their banter became somewhat flirtatious as they teased about running away to Vegas if they won big in the next few hours. But where Robert's luck was up, Carla's had begun to plummet.

"11 Black."

"Ohh, you're a flamin' jinx you are!" Carla laughed, sneakily sliding a few of his chips under her hand when his back was turned. Regardless of losing money she was having an enjoyable few hours with Robert; able to simply slip away into the world of Roulette with someone who wasn't constantly trying to make her talk about her feelings.

"Hey!" Robert chuckled taking his chips back from her, "you going again?"

"Hmmm no, I promised myself I'd stop after a ton," she scoffed into her glass, "not even my vices seem to work these days."

"Bets, please."

"I might push my luck one more time..." he slid all his chips onto number 27 as Carla watched on in shocked horror

"Umm, there's - a lot of money riding on there..."

"Tell me about it," Robert downed his drink, rising to his feet and pulling Carla in under his arm...

* * *

She felt a soft kiss press to the back of her shoulder. The mattress behind her dipped momentarily before springing back to form, leaving her alone in the hotel bed amongst the tangled sheets. She listened for the bathroom door to close and almost immediately pushed her face into the pillow she was resting on. 'Stupid, stupid!' she scolded herself.

She forced her eyes open, the room still encompassed in relative darkness. As she continued to blink her eyes, the champagne bottle next to the bed slowly came into focus; and the events that occurred just hours prior, began replaying in her mind...

_"27 Red." Domenic called_

_Carla and Robert immediately cheered in triumph and relief._

_"How much even is that?" Carla asked him, still clutching onto her wine glass and eyeing the multitude of chips Domenic now added to Robert's collection._

_"I don't know, let's get it cashed and find out!" Robert insisted, collecting the bundle in his hands as Carla grabbed her jacket_

_"Champagne's on you," she laughed flirtatiously, "__Come on!"_

_An hour later saw them sitting in the bar of the casino, lounging on a sofa and drinking the celebratory bubbly that Robert had ordered. Carla had leaned dangerously intimately into him as they laughed and drank; her body outwardly drawing comfort to fill the void of emptiness that she felt on the inside._

_"You know what," she said wistfully, "if you'd 'ave asked me yesterday what I'd 'ave been doing this afternoon, I would not guess this." They both chuckled as she took a sip of her champagne. _

_The atmosphere surrounding them shifted almost immediately. The fun, friendly flirting between them the last couple of hours had now swerved into risky territory. She felt the intensity of Robert's gaze as he eyed her profile, feeling a delectable flip in her stomach at being found attractive - even if by a man who wasn't her loving fiancee. And yet she kept her gaze focused on the glass in her hand, knowing full well that any common sense she may have had remaining after the last few days were now tainted by a flurry of emotions. _

_Oh yes, she knew herself well, and she was understandably apprehensive of what would happen if she gave in and looked at him..._

_From the corner of her eye though, she saw him pull the bottle of champagne from the ice bucket stand and rest it almost teasingly on his knee; she felt the arm he had slung around her tighten as his hand caressed her shoulder, "Wanna take this upstairs?" he asked._

_His voice was low and husky, causing a feeling likened to that of butterflies rapidly quivering their wings in her stomach to rise again; and as much as she knew she shouldn't, she turned and looked up at him. _

_He was staring at her with such longing potency that she felt herself edge back slightly._

_She shouldn't..._

_She knew that..._

_And yet the desire to feel something, anything other than the emotions of anger and numbness that had been duelling within her since finding out about Johnny being her father, and her brother Rob's blackmail in the whole reveal, was far too tempting to pass up..._

_She fluttered her eyes between his kind but lust-laden gaze down to his mouth, and she subconsciously bit her lower lip in response; her hypothetical finger now well and truly hovering over her self-destruct button..._

_Robert watched as her teeth sunk into her plump lip and took that as his cue, pulling her towards him as his lips captured her now trembling ones; and as he raised the hand still clutching the champagne bottle to her face, so that his knuckles could brush against the delicate skin of her cheek, he pushed his tongue into her mouth, smiling as she moaned in response..._

* * *

Robert trudged back into the Bistro determined to make it through the busy dining hall unseen. His eyes firmly fixed on the kitchen entrance, he could almost feel the sanctuary lying just beyond the wooden door; he only had to make it around the bar without being seen by...

"You're late, again."

...by him.

Swearing to himself under his breath he quickly turned to face Nick, "Uhh, yeah. Sorry boss."

"You do know we have thirty covers tonight?"

"Yeah, I know. I'm on it."

"So what are you still doing out here then?" Nick snapped in agitation.

Dropping his head slightly and biting his tongue, Robert headed off behind the bar, but coming to a halt when he heard the words he had been desperately hoping to avoid

"You haven't seen Carla, when you were out and about, did you?" Nick's tone had changed considerably from accusatory to genuine concern that Robert felt a pang of guilt as he turned once more to face him

"Uhh, no, no," he lied

"Alright," Nick said sadly, giving a slight nod to his chef; an unspoken apology between the two men that Robert contritely accepted before heading into the safety of the kitchen.

* * *

"I still don't understand: why him? I mean, couldn't you have just felt up the nearest groupie eh, and asked him what time he got off shift-"

"'Chelle, I was angry about Johnny okay, I was ang-angry with Rob," Carla exhaled a shaky breath, "and then I got angry at Nick 'cause he was interfering-"

"Oh well, that's called caring! That's called being in a relationship! I mean what would you have preferred him to do? Say, 'Oh Johnny's your dad, just get over it' and carry on as normal?" Michelle watched as Carla bent over and placed her elbows on the counter, dropping her head into her hands in anguish, "he loves you Carla!"

"I know that!" she cried in sheer despair

Michelle sighed, rubbing her hand along her mouth. She could see how distressed her friend was, how guilty she felt about her poor judgment. With a resigned exhale, she tried a different approach, "so what are you going to do?" she asked gently

"I'm gonna have to tell him," Carla's voice cracked

"What?" she responded incredulously

"I can't lie to him-"

"It will destroy him!"

Carla sniffled, knowing that Michelle was right, but she shook her head and pushed herself back up to a standing position, "no, you know what? _Lies_ destroy people. You know that, I know that. Okay? And it's better that he hears it from me than somebody else..."

Michelle shook her head, "At least think about it, please?"

"I've thought of nothing else since it happened," She responded firmly, "I've got no options, 'Chelle. I've got to come clean..."

"Okay, Carla," Michelle tried to reason with her, "look, if you had slept with anyone else - anyone - I would say, okay: tell him. Nick loves you so much that I know he would ultimately forgive you it. He'd still be gutted, but he would understand that it happened because your mind were all a mess from finding out about Johnny and Rob," she grasped Carla's shoulders in her hands and gently turned her to face her, "but Carla, you didn't just sleep with anyone, okay? This wasn't a random you met at the casino. It's too close to home, and he may not be able to see past it to forgive you..."

* * *

She finally tore her gaze from the champagne bottle as a slight sparkle from her left hand now drew her undivided focus. She stretched her arm out, her eyes locking onto the beautiful engagement ring Nick had presented her with just weeks prior...

_"...I thought if I do it in public, there's no getting out of it," he offered her just the smallest hint of a smile, "So, Carla Connor: will you take this ring," he slowly lowered himself to a crouch, balancing himself on one knee in front of her, grasping her left hand in his and holding up the platinum engagement band in his right, "as a token of our engagement?" _

_She smiled down at him, relief that he had not changed his mind flooding over her tinged with a slight embarrassment as all eyes in the Bistro now rested upon her, "get up you silly beggar!" She scolded him lovingly_

_His brows furrowed, "no, not until you say yes."_

_She flicked her hair nervously out of her face, "well, like you said we did this yesterday-"_

_"Not with the ring," he argued playfully, "come on, me knee's killing me!"_

_She laughed along with him, her emotions threatening to overpower her as she felt his adoration and love for her as he gazed up at her, "of course I'll say yes..." she whispered with a shake of her head as he rose to his feet, a large grin plastered on his face while their family and friends all clapped and cheered their approval. _

_He slid the ring on her finger, "it fits," he smiled_

_"Oh, that's a good omen," Audrey stated_

_"It's beautiful," Carla whispered with sincerity, her eyes only on Nick_

_"Kiss the bride, then!" Bethany urged from behind him as Nick slid his arms around Carla's hips and drew her closer to him _

_"They're not married yet!" Gail's voice interrupted from behind the bar_

_But the couple ignored her, Carla leaning in to her fiancee and pressing a soft kiss to his lips,_

_"Soon will be..." Nick stated, before kissing his bride to be one more time..._

She felt a wave of nausea overwhelm her senses and she hastily untangled her naked limbs from the hotel bedsheets. Swinging her legs over the side of the bed and running a shaky hand through her bedhead, she furiously looked about the room for her knickers and bra. Spotting them across the room flung over the desk's chair, she quickly dashed towards them, her fingers trembling as she moved to slip them on, her eyes constantly darting to the bathroom. As quickly as she could, she stepped into her jeans, and slid her tank top and blouse on over her head. She heard the sink taps turn off and she made quick work of trying to put her boots on as the bathroom door opened.

"Not really my style, is it?" he asked, referring to the robe, as he gave himself a once over in the mirror. When she didn't reply, he turned to face her, "what are you doing?" he asked

"I have to go," she replied frazzled

"What? Now?"

"Look, ummm" her fingers shook as she fumbled with the buttons on her blouse, refusing to look up at him, "no one can find out about this alright?"

"Carla-"

She sprung to her feet, her hands running through her hair again as she turned to grab her jacket, "No, just please, don't-" she tried to move past him but he blocked her exit.

"Carla, you're in no fit state to go anywhere right now, just sit down okay?" He watched in concern as she paced about him like a caged animal, "look, I'll order us up some food and we can talk this through, alright?"

"No! I can't. Please I have to go!" She cried, her hand coming up and rubbing her forehead in distress.

He thrust his arm out, effectively blocking her from reaching the exit once more, "You're not running from this, Carla, alright, not until we talk it out."

She exhaled a deep breath, trying to quell her heart as it pounded in her chest. Without meeting his eyes she pleaded with him once more through her tears, but still he wouldn't budge.

With a resigned sob, she sank to the floor, her jacket falling beside her, "God, what have I done?" she whispered

And as the tears now flowed freely down her cheeks, she raised her gaze upwards to the warm brown eyes of her ex-husband...


End file.
